I've been here for three weeks this time, and honestly, I'm beyond exhausted. It has been a whirlwind of constant activity and little sleep with a silly, sweet, imaginative, talkative four-year-old girl who asks "Why?" after every statement (and I do mean EVERY single one); a rambunctious, charming, energetic, all-boy two-year-old whose current favorite word is "mine;" and a precious, cuddly newborn baby boy who thinks that long sleep stretches should happen only during the day and never at night. Over the past three weeks, I have often wondered how I did the mothering thing full-time to two-year-old twins and a newborn. The only feasible answer I've come up with is that I was much younger then.But as exhausting as this month has been, I would do it all over again in a heartbeat, and I would even gladly stay another three weeks if I was really needed.
My love for my three children is all-consuming, even as they have reached adulthood. My heart walks around outside of my body in three different places at all times through them, and no matter how old they get, it will always be that way. If you are a mother you know exactly what I'm talking about.
And now, my grandchildren have added an entirely new dimension. I look at the three I've just spent time with and see glimpses of the past. Although Lydia doesn't physically look like Sarah did at four years old, the personality is very much the same. I look at Henry, and I'm reminded of a little boy named Caleb - the resemblance between those two is uncanny. And as I've held and rocked Owen the past few weeks, I've seen glimpses of both Lydia and Henry. But as much as they remind me of the past, they add such joy to the present, and so much hope for the future. They help me to remember to live in the moment, to enjoy the simple things, to take life a day at a time, and that there's always time to laugh and be silly. They are the fun that my own children were, without the weight of the daily parenting responsibility and with the added bonus of patience that can only come with age.
While talking with an older lady recently about grandchildren, I was surprised to hear her say that "the first one is special." She went on to say that she knew I would enjoy my other grandchildren, but that the first one was in a class all their own. I disagree. Henry and Owen (and soon, Noah) are just as special as Lydia. And as I've had time to hold, snuggle, and rock Owen in these first weeks of his life, the feelings have been as intense as they were when I held and rocked Lydia and Henry. I am overwhelmed each time at how blessed I am - blessed to have godly children who are seeking to live and love like Christ, and who are dedicated to raising their children to do the same.
I love the quote I used as the title above. And although I'm feeling that hollowness on the inner surface of my arms whose emptiness is currently producing a longing ache, I am also feeling a full heart of thankfulness to God for this life I have - a blessed life as a wife, mom, and Mimi that I would not trade for anything.I'm thankful as well for a few weeks of rest before Mimi duty resumes in Midland as we welcome Noah into the family. This Mimi can't wait.
